Forgiveness
by Mayday Parker
Summary: By the way...Thank you for saving my life. For a moment the Beast just gaped. After all he had done to her..she was thanking him? ONESHOT Reloaded to correct a few nitpicks.


_This is a birthday present for Emeraldshine for her sixteenth birthday. _

_Happy Birthday, Sweetie!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and The Beast. I just love it very much. How says youcan get to old for fairy tales? _

**Forgiveness**

One Shot

"_By the way…Thank you, for saving my life"._

For a moment The Beast just gaped. After all he had done, after all had he'd put her through…she was still thanking him? It was a small gesture, but it showed she had more strength than most would give her credit for, more than he had expected, more than he himself possessed. It showed there was more to her than just physical beauty.

"You're welcome." These were the only words he could force past his disobedient lips. More needed to be said but he knew this would suffice for now. The Italian named beauty must have agreed because she merely nodded and continued her task.

A comfortable silence settled between the two, the only sounds being the water Belle was splashing on her companion's wound and the flames licking the inside of the fireplace. At this time the twenty-year-old male took to observing the brunette woman. The brilliant red and orange flames bounced off her small frame making her features seem softer. Her hair, which was usually up in a neat pony tale, was severely disheveled obscuring parts of her compassionate face. Her blouse and dress were wrinkled and had smudges of dirt and melted snow. The small parts of exposed arms and legs were littered with various scratches received from branches and trees.

He'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"Mrs. Potts?" Her voice interrupted his train of thought. "Do you have any bandages? The wound will need to be covered so it won't get infected." She spoke gently.

"Yes, of course, dear. I'll fetch them and be right back." The cheery teapot replied, hopping quietly out of the room, her son following closely behind.

"Thank you." Belle called softly after her.

Again, The Beast watched her. Even in the face of adversity she was polite, he noted with slight amusement. By now she had finished cleaning the wound on his arm, and was trying her best to pull her disobedient hair out of her way while patiently waiting for the bandages.

"You handle servants well." His voice was almost a whisper.

"Excuse me?" His voice had been so quiet the words had barely touched her ears.

"You…you handle servants well." He repeated a bit louder.

"I handle _people_ well." Belle corrected gently. "They may serve you but they are no less important than you." As soon as the words left her mouth she feared the reaction she would receive. She knew how rash he was when angered. Breaking into an outraged tantrum or maybe even cause her physical harm, these were all things possible for him to do. So when he sighed and slightly dropped his head she was caught completely off of her guard.

"I…I know." His voice was full of shame.

"You…do?" The humble reply mixed with his quiet voice was forcing her into a state of concern.

"Yes. I am the cause of this situation. Of this punishment. Of this pain." The French born woman had been right when she had called the castle enchanted. Clocks talked. Silverware walked. Footstools barked. Yes, it was differently enchanted, but The Beast has never thought of it that way. It wasn't enchanted, it was cursed. It cursed him, isolating from the rest of the world, taunting him, torturing him. And it was all his fault.

"You shouldn't punish yourself." Belle chastised motherly. "It's not your fau-"

"Yes, it is!" The sudden outburst had caused all in the room to jump back, fearing what he would do next. "You don't know! You weren't there! It was my fault! It _is_ my fault." On the last sentence the young woman thought she heard his voice braking.

"Beast, please…" She cooed softly. "Is all the pain and hurt you put yourself through necessary?"

"Yes." With this he turned his face to meet her eyes. The honey brown orbs shined even in the dim light, as if to emphasize her words and actions further. They were staring at him, searching him, seeing right through him.

"The pain of the occurrence still hasn't left you. And you don't want it to, do you?" Her voice burned with the need to understand his hurt.

"No, I don't deserve to let it." These were his honest thoughts; she could see it in his azule eyes.

"You think that by hurting yourself you can undo what's already been done?"

"Exactly." His voice was cold.

"That's not true and you know it."

"What?" His voice was once again rising with frustration.

"You've lost all hope in yourself. That's the real reason. You don't want to be free because you're afraid you'll make the same mistake over again." Belle explained, her face gentle with gained understanding and voice soft like a mother comforting a crying child.

His eyes watched her with the same amazement as of a small child. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, as he tried to form words to say. As a person told a special secret he was speechless. His earlier impression had been correct. There was _much_ more to her than physical beauty.

"I know something that would help." Belle spoke encouragingly, answering his unasked question.

"What is it?" His voice was full of more hope than most could have imagined left in him.

"Something called…_forgiveness_."

* * *

And it's done. That's the shortest thing I ever wrote. I reloaded it because I originally spelled Mrs. Potts' name with only one "t"...and nearly half of the people who reveiwed pointed this out. And a few other nit-picky things.

Something else that was brought to my attention-_repeatedly_-,was when I called Belle "Italian named beauty". Everyone seemed to thinkthat I was implying that Belle was Italian. I wasn't. I am very well aware that she is French (did anyone else notice thateven thoughthis took placein France only,like, two people had accents?).  
What I was refurring to was the fact thatBelle's_name_ isItalian. The word "belle"is Italianfor: beautiful women (the singular form is "bella"). Ok? I just wanted to clear that up. Thanx for reading!

Please review?

Cookies n' Hugs!  
Mayday


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